


The Cookie Mafia

by Midna127



Category: Original Work
Genre: Girl Scout Cookie Competition Challenge, Girl Scouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 10:10:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21034565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midna127/pseuds/Midna127
Summary: Charlene Black, a reluctant Sweetie Scouts member, learns the true meaning of hell and corruption when her troop leader's prized flat-screen TV is stolen.





	The Cookie Mafia

**Author's Note:**

> I found an English assignment from when I was in 8th grade, and it aged surprisingly well, minor grammatical usage aside. As for Weeber, Bleach, the Patriots Gang, and Jerry, those were all part of assignments from other classmates. We had to write interconnecting stories in a group, and that's how they fit in, with Weeber Grille and his dog Bleach having the most impact. It aged surprisingly well.

In a traditional story, the main character is either the hero or the villain. I am neither.

But then again, most good girls go to Sweetie Scouts by pure will. I, on the other hand, do it out of force.

And of course, there was an infamous event in troop 100802, my troop, that is known as the Cookie Mafia. You know, the story I'm telling you. Like, right now.

Obviously this kind of story is going to start on a normal Wednesday, because that's pretty much where it started.

The sun was starting to set on Voleur Street, and the entire troop 100802 were assembled at troop leader Jerrica McFuddlestein's estate. I couldn't make up that name if I wanted to. And by troop I mean six other girls my age and Jerrica. "Okay girls, gather around in the living room for a Sweetie Scout discussion," Mrs. McFuddlestein called from said room. "Come and sit in a Friendship Circle."

I groaned as I followed the other girls from the other kitchen to the living room, which is pretty cool. It has a fifty-inch flat screen television set. So I can't complain about our Movie Night patch, then. We assemble into a small ring into the living room carpet and make room for Mrs. McFuddlestein. Soon I find myself wedged between Riley and Carol, the twins. They do everything together. And I mean everything together. Except for now, when I'm smack in the middle between them. To Carol's right, there's Brittney. She's kind of an air head. But don't we all have one of those in our lives? And to Brittney's right is Tricia, a girl who always tries to be positive. So naturally, I don't like her. Last but not least is Tracy. She's quiet and pretty creepy, actually. Tracy knew who I was and where I lived before I even knew her name.

To be fair, though, I am pretty bad with names.

"So," Jerrica stated. "Christmas is coming soon."

'No duh,' I thought.

"We need a new winter project if we want a new Sweetie Scout patch." Jerrica showed off her sash, and so did the other girls. Twenty-nine patches each, minus the troop number and status: Cream Puffs. "So, what are some ideas?"

Tricia raised her hand. "We could go caroling at a retirement home," she suggested.

"Good idea, Tricia. Anyone else?" Mrs. McFuddlestein asked.

"Hot cocoa stands!" the twins yelled, in a too-synced to be true unison.

"Remember to raise your hands, girls," Mrs. McFuddlestein reminded them.

"Maybe we can sell cookies door-to-door," Tracy piped up.

"But I don't think anyone's going to know most of the neighbors here, Tracy. Some of them are gang members or thieves," Jerrica told her.

"I know them," Tracy muttered before slumping down.

"Maybe-" Brittney started before an ominous shadow flew past the giant living room window.

"What was that?" Jerrica asked.

"Maybe it's the pizza man?" Brittney asked. Oh Brittney. Oh clueless little Brittney. She was quickly proven wrong as everyone piled outside to see a hawk circle around Jerrica's house.

"It's just a bird, girls. No harm done," Mrs. McFuddlestein told us.

"Not a bird, a hawk," is what I could make out from Tracy.

"I guess we'll go back inside, then," Mrs. McFuddlestein re-opened her front door for us.

"But we'll miss the pizza!" Brittney called as the rest of us started to go inside.

Mrs. McFuddlestein took Brittney inside and shut the door. "Well, I guess we can continue our meet-AHHHHHHHHHH!" she shrieked.

The rest of us mocked at what she was screaming at. It was the television set. It was gone. "That hawk! It must've been a distraction so someone could steal my TV!"

"Blast that Weeber," Tracy muttered. "Jerry's got something good coming for him."

I swear, Tracy's a druggie.

"Girls," Mrs. McFuddlestein clenched her teeth as she clasped her hands together. "New project. We're going to sell cookies until we have enough to get a new TV for me."

"But don't we sell cookies in the spring to add money to our troop fund and the corporate minds behind Sweetie Scouts?" Tricia asked.

"Not anymore." Mrs. McFuddlestein later dismissed us, promising that at tomorrow's meeting, she'd get us the cookies we'd need to sell. Yeah, she added additional meetings until we reached her goal.

And then began the Cookie Mafia of '16.

\------------------------------------------

The next day, we all gathered again at Jerrica McFuddlestein's house to pick up the cookies. Each girl got a wagon full of boxes, each containing fifty boxes of each flavor: Peppermint Power, Nutty Nutties, Lemon Lovers, Savvy Snicker Doodles, O-Mazing Oatmeal, and Crazy Chocolate... ugh, Confirmed. They're really stupid names, especially Crazy Chocolate Confirmed, but people buy them anyways.

At least, for the other girls they did. I got nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. Synonyms for none. Apparently I was "too mopey" and wasn't very convincing about how good the cookies were. Which they aren't, with the exception of Crazy Chocolate. Yeah, I'm keeping out that Confirmed. But hey, it's the only problem I have with it.

I spent my whole day in the local park, with the only interesting thing happening being a group of morons calling themselves the "Patriots Gang" selling what looked like drugs. And people actually went and bought them. I'm surprised Tracy wasn't among the crowd.

'I'm never going to survive this cookie-infested chaos, aren't I?' I thought to myself as I packed up for the day.

\------------------------------------------

It had been nearly a week, and I only had one buyer: my dad, out of pure pity. And yet it was a ray of hope in dark times. Something even darker was to come, though.

About a week after this "Weeber Grill" stole the television set, we had sold the following boxes of cookies:

• Riley and Carol Martinez - 27 boxes

• Brittney Carmen - 15 boxes

• Tricia Roland - 24 boxes

• Tracy Guantanamo - 32 boxes

• Charlene Black (me) - 1 box

Total: 99 boxes; 99(4) = $396

"I'm very disappointed with you, girls," Jerrica told us at that day's meeting. 'We're over a thousand dollars off our quota! You've left me no choice. You're going to dress in snowman costumes and perform like the monkeys you are until we get enough money for a new TV!"

Okay, let me just say one thing: I'm terrified of things like this. Having to perform in front of strangers in an embarrassing manner.

Apparently I wasn't alone, though, because only Tricia was happy about this. Then again, she's Tricia.

And before I knew it, there we were, in the same park I was in the week before, only I wasn't dressed in a ridiculous costume that time. The Patriots Gang was there again, but more people wanted to stare at us and laugh than get hooked on drugs. At least people were throwing in money towards our tip jar. Dollar bills and coins soon filled it, but I quickly noticed that the coins were all pennies, and the dollars were only ones. By the end of our torturous performance, we made.... $10.81.

Which means that we had $406.81 total.

Which means that Mrs. McFuddlestein was furious.

"You stupid girls! I'm going to disband the troop at this point!"

Oh no... not the troop...

But a ray of heavenly light shone upon me. It was warm, comforting, and gave me a feeling of happiness.

And then someone walked in front of it. Or rather, a police officer. "Excuse me, are you girls Sweetie Scouts?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I nodded.

"I'll take three hundred boxes of your Crazy Chocolate Confirmed, please."

Th-three hundred boxes?! He was willing to pay over a thousand dollars for cookies! It'd make me a top seller if I said yes, and maybe even get me out of the troop without it disbanding.

"Sure, Mr...?"

"You can call me Jerry," the cop replied.

Mrs. McFuddlestein, who was eavesdropping nearby, squealed with delight and went over to Jerry, telling him when and where he can pick up his cookies.

Meanwhile, the whole troop 100802, even Tricia, celebrated quietly. At long last, it was finally over.

\------------------------------------------

A year later, I was still in the troop. I know, I know, but at least they have movie nights. And hey, now we were at the Biscuit rank.

We had just settled down to watch a movie from the seventy-inch flat screen TV one evening when we heard a voice outside. "No, Bleach! Don't pee on their lawn!"

All seven of us ran outside, only to find that there was no bleach on the yard, or even in sight. "Wait, if bleach can pee, wouldn't it still be full of dangerous chemicals?" Brittney asked. We all shook our heads in disbelief.

Going back inside, we immediately noticed that the entire TV set was gone. Before Jerrica could bring out the snowman costumes, the rest of the girls ran out of the house screaming.

"Blast you, Weeber!" Tracy yelled into the heavens as we took cover into the woods beyond.

"Weeber?" I asked.

"Check out the white pages for this town," Tracy dismissed me.

I shrugged as I kept running with the Biscuits, not knowing where we would roam.

Until we were busted by Jerry the cop, and were sent home, were I was grounded. Good stuff like that.


End file.
